


Bizarro vs. The Real Deal

by yarroway



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Crack, Humor, Meta, Other, Parody, S7 episode 7, Satire, episode-related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-15
Updated: 2010-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarroway/pseuds/yarroway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satire/Crack/Meta fic featuring House, Wilson and Cuddy, and based on certain events in the seventh season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bizarro vs. The Real Deal

"No, no, no!" House yelled.  He pounded his fist on the table.  "I am a board certified infectious disease specialist, and a genius.  I am not going to sit on the floor in a self-pitying heap while my patient dies and I've been exposed to an unknown infectious agent!  Where the hell is my team?  I have unfettered access to the patient. I should be running every test known to medical science and inventing a few more to figure out what this thing is--and it can't possibly be smallpox."  
  
"And YOU" House's voice turned vicious as he glared at Cuddy.  "What are you thinking?  I might be dying and you haven't told Wilson?  What are you going to do, just sit there and stare at me for a week until I develop symptoms?"  
  
"Shut up, House," Cuddy said wearily.  
  
Wilson re-entered the room from the kitchen and handed out beers.  He took one look at House and got the scotch out of the cupboard as well.  
  
"It's not her fault what her double does," Wilson reminded House.  "At least she's there.  I'm off getting in the nurses' way and playing footsie with my ex-wife."  He settled back on the couch, right up against House.  
  
"At least you two are doing your jobs" Cuddy said, taking a long drink of beer.  "That idiot got my ER shut down.  I can't believe she's sleeping with you.  I'm going to have to fumigate the whole house."  She glanced around their prison.  "Eventually."  
  
They watched a while longer in silence.  Then Cuddy leaned forward and shouted at the screen, "Hey, you!  You know that line between dressing like a professional but attractive woman and dressing like a working girl?  It's behind you."  
  
"At least you're consistent," Wilson grumbled.  "My personality changes all the time.  One minute I'm telling House to lie and the next I'm berating him for lying.  It doesn't make any sense!  And what am I doing back with Sam, anyway?  I mean, sure she's a lovely person, but I'd decided what I wanted already last year and it wasn't her."  
  
On the screen the medical student House's doppelganger had hired for reasons passing understanding appeared.  She tried to convince House to examine the body.  He refused in terror.  
  
"That's it," House said.  "I've had enough.  They made me have sex with IT"--a glance at Cuddy, who raised her middle finger--"They made me her little bitch.  They made me carry her to bed.  They made me lose my mind when a patient died, because after 50 plus years its never occurred to me before that life might occasionally be unfair.  They made me so stupid that my team has to suggest every single diagnosis.  But this--I need a third year to tell me to _examine_ a _body_?  No, that's it.  We're leaving."  
  
"You have a plan, Don Quixote, or are you just going to yell at the walls again?" Wilson asked.  He raised his bottle to take a drink.  
  
House swiped it, drained it, and threw it through the television screen.  Sparks flew.  The set made a whining noise, and a thin tendril of smoke curled up from its innards.  
  
Wilson grimaced.  "If you were concerned about my drinking you only had to say so."  
  
House held up one hand.  "Wait."  
  
The door opened.  David Shore entered along with several fat white guys in suits.  Katie Jacobs wheeled in a large flatscreen.  Working quickly, the group concentrated on setting up the new television.   
  
"Come on, Sancho," House grasped Wilson's hand and pulled him along.  The three of them walked right past the group and out the open door.   
  
"How could that possibly have worked?  Why didn’t they notice us?" Cuddy asked.  
  
"Too much TV.  Rots the brain."  
  
Cuddy nodded.  "So are we running for Mexico or dealing with these…interlopers?"  
  
House gave her an appraising look.  "Someone's feeling feisty."  
  
**************  
  
_House knelt on what used to be his bad leg.  He gazed adoringly into Cuddy's cleavage.  At House's desk Rachel threw everything in reach onto the floor and shrieked, "Mooooose!  Mooooose!"  Wilson and Cuddy's mother, sister, secret sister, cat and high school gym teacher looked on._  
  
_House held Cuddy's hand tenderly and started to cry.  "Marry me, Lisa.  Please say yes.  I'll kill myself if you don't."_  
  
_Cuddy gasped in pleasure at this piece of emotional blackmail.  "I don't know," she said.  "Will you make it worth my while?"_  
  
_"I can't," sobbed House.  "I'm worthless.  I'm nothing without you. All I can offer you is misery and lies and Grand Theft Auto."_  
  
_"Are," Cuddy corrected._  
  
"Got you!"  Cuddy yelled in triumph as she brought a chair down on her double's head.  Fake-Cuddy went down like a sack of potatoes.  
  
"Hey," fake-Wilson protested from his ringside seat.  "That was a beautiful moment you interrupted."  
  
Wilson strode forward and stood in front of his double, hands on his hips.  "You'd better come with me," was all he said, but something in his eyes made fake-Wilson shiver and drop his gaze to the floor.  
  
"Ah HA!" House yelled, and swung a punch at his double.  Fake-House didn’t even try to avoid the blow, just groveled as House pummeled him. Eventually he plopped onto his side, and when the whining stopped they figured he was unconscious.  
  
Wilson raised an eyebrow.  "I guess that's how you fall when you don’t have a spine."  
  
"Get them the hell out of my hospital," Cuddy ordered.  
  
House and Wilson shrugged at each other.  They dragged their doppelgangers into the garage, stowed them in the trunk of Wilson's Volvo, and drove to the ocean where they discovered that bodies make a very satisfying splash.  
  
End  


**Author's Note:**

> In a recent-at the time of this writing- discussion Soophilia requested a fic like this, though I'm sure she had a better quality version in mind. But seeing as she's posted so much wonderful RSL material for so long...I wanted to take this opportunity to thank her by giving her what she'd requested. 
> 
> Disclaimer: House, M.D. belongs to David Shore, Universal Television, Heel and Toe Productions, and a lot of other people who are not me. I'm not making any money from this.


End file.
